


Maybe Next Time

by raiseyourpinky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Professor Castiel, Social Anxiety, Writer Dean Winchester, coffee shop date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiseyourpinky/pseuds/raiseyourpinky
Summary: Castiel is about to meet his favorite -- living -- author, Dean Winchester. But their encounter doesn't go exactly as planned.





	Maybe Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one exactly one month ago and I never posted it. So, here it is.

The bookstore was packed. There had been a long line outside, but the employees had worked their magic and gotten everyone seated. When Castiel had decided to attend the event, he didn’t consider how famous Dean Winchester was. He should have known, though. _Hunter’s Journey_ had been a #1 New York Times Bestseller for six weeks in a row.

Castiel sat on the front row. He’d been exceptionally early, and had managed to get the best seat in the house. He was clutching his copy of _Hunter’s Journey_ as though it were a lifeline. Crowded places gave him anxiety. But this place wasn’t just packed, it was loud. Very loud. People all around him were talking in animated voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he kept hearing “Dean” in all of their sentences.

A few minutes later, just when Castiel was debating whether he should stick around or make a run for it, an announcer called out Dean’s name.

Dean Winchester appeared right in front of Castiel, waving at the crowds, and quickly taking a seat on one of the high chairs available. He was not more than four feet away from Castiel, and it felt surreal. Castiel had never been much of a fan of anyone. He didn’t care about TV shows or movies, and all of his favorite authors were dead. But Dean Winchester had written one of the best books he’d ever read, and Castiel couldn’t deny how in awe he was of him. Yes, Dean was just as handsome as everyone described him, but that wasn’t why Castiel was drawn to him. Dean was smart. He was witty and intelligent and he had a way with words.

“What’s up, guys?” Dean asked the crowd. “How’s it hanging?”

Well, maybe Dean had a way with words on paper. Regardless, Dean had Castiel’s attention, as well as the many others in the room. The hour flew by. Dean started by talking about his writing career. _Hunter’s Journey_ was his third book published, and his first bestseller. He talked about the pranks he played on his younger brother, whom he affectionately called Sammy. Then the questions came, and Dean answered each one eloquently. Castiel listened attentively to every answer. He was particularly curious about one of them.

“Hi,” the lanky boy said shyly from the back row. He stood up to ask his question, but he looked nervous. As soon as Dean made eye contact with him, the boy looked calmer. “My question is about your main character, Jake. _Hunter’s Journey_ is a post-apocalyptic survival book about two brothers. I was surprised that you managed to explore Jake’s bisexuality along with everything else that was happening. And it was done so well. I have never related more to a character. Why did you choose to include that in the book?”

Dean smiled, and it lit up his face. “That’s an excellent question. I’m really glad you asked it. What’s your name?”

“Eric,” the boy said, returning the smile.

“Well, Eric, my decision to explore Jake’s bisexuality was simple,” Dean said. “I knew that in this post-apocalyptic setting, Jake and Robert would have to go through a hell of a lot just to get by. With the disease that wiped out ninety percent of the population, it wasn’t going to be easy for them. But that doesn’t mean that people stop living. Desire is a thing that lives on, even when we don’t think we can. Jake is in his early twenties, and he’s had to take care of Robert most of his life, so the least I could do was give him this. His relationship with Will was the only happiness he had for a long time. I wanted them to explore the feelings they had for each other. Also, _I’m_ bisexual. Growing up I wanted nothing more than a kickass character who was also bi. So that’s what I wrote. I hope that answers your question.”

Eric beamed. “Yes, it does. Thank you!”

Castiel was even more in awe of Dean than before. One of his favorite aspects of _Hunter’s Journey_ was the portrayal of a bisexual character, without it being the focus of the story. Jake was bisexual, but his so-called journey wasn’t about that at all. It was about survival, and the root of human instincts during difficult circumstances.

Once the questions were done, everyone lined up for the book signing. Castiel didn’t move fast enough, and the line was already all the way outside the door by the time he reached it. He was overwhelmed with the amount of people, so he decided to take a break and went to the restroom. When he came back, Castiel got in the back of the line, rounding the corner of the bookstore.

It took close to two hours for Castiel to reach the front of the line. The only reason he stayed in line was because Dean had been so charming and Castiel would never forgive himself without getting his signature.

Castiel blinked when it was his turn. Dean was staring openly at him, holding his hand out for his book. Castiel handed it over, shifting on his feet.

Dean smiled kindly. “Who do I make this out to?”

“Castiel.” And he tried to think of something worthwhile to say. Here he was, thirty-three years old, standing in front of his favorite—living—author, and he was drawing blanks.

“I saw you during my Q&A,” Dean said, closing the book and handing it over. Then he stood up, and Castiel realized that he was done with the signing. “I was hoping you’d ask me a question.”

Castiel froze. This never happened to him. He was usually a normal human being, who could speak, who could move, who could do _normal_ things. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what to ask.”

Dean slung a messenger bag over his shoulder. “Maybe next time.”

With that, Castiel left, feeling all at once disappointed and frustrated in himself. When would he ever meet his favorite author again? He’d driven over an hour just to get here, and he’d even sat at the front, but he couldn’t tell Dean how much his books meant to him.

Before making the long drive back home, Castiel stopped at a coffee shop a block down from the bookstore. The place had a large brown coffee cup under the name The Best Coffee. Castiel hoped it was.

He got in line, balancing his book on one arm while digging for his wallet with the other. He ordered his coffee, but the barista wouldn’t accept his money.

“Your drink’s been paid for,” she said.

Castiel frowned. “By who?”

“That guy over there,” she said, pointing a few feet down, where Dean Winchester was standing, waiting for his coffee.

Castiel opened his mouth, hoping he wouldn’t freeze again. _Maybe next time_ , Dean had said. Castiel walked bravely towards Dean, close enough to see how green his eyes were.

“Thank you for paying for my coffee, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean smiled. “I’m glad I ran into you again.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I don’t know if it would be appropriate now for me to praise you about your books, but I’m going to do it anyway. I’ve read _Hunter’s Journey_ three times since it came out. It’s an incredible work of literature. The characters are phenomenal, the representation is excellent, and your plot kept me on the edge of my seat. I’ve also read your first two books, and I love them just as much. I’m an English professor, and I’ve taught your books to my students. They love them.” Castiel nodded, satisfied. “Alright, I think I’ve said it all.”

Dean chuckled, and then picked up their coffees, handing one of them to Castiel. “You’re an English professor? You look too young to be a professor.”

“I’m three years older than you,” Castiel said. Then he blushed.

“Hey, no worries, I’m sure everyone Googles me.” Dean sipped his coffee. “Actually, a lot of my friends have confessed that they Google me to remember my birthday.”

“That’s unfair, assuming you can’t do the same for them.”

Dean walked to a table, and Castiel followed. They sat across from each other. “You know, some people have told me they only read, or even like, my books because of my author photo. I probably sound ungrateful, but I don’t want people reading my books because of that. I don’t want the way I look to play any part in the quality of my books.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’ve heard of that. I’m sorry. You’re not ungrateful for thinking that. But if it helps, I didn’t know what you looked like when I read your books. I bought them on e-book first, and they don’t come with your picture. It was until I got the hardcover that I saw it. I have to tell you, though, you’re no Oscar Wilde.”

Dean threw his head back in laughter. “I would never dream of being better looking than Oscar Wilde.”

They continued talking, mostly about literature, and about the best music to listen to while reading and writing. It wasn’t until Dean told Castiel about the struggles of growing up in foster homes with his brother—something Castiel had never read about in the few times he’d looked up the author—and Castiel told Dean about losing his parents and moving to L.A. as a teenager with nothing but a backpack on his shoulders that Castiel realized how surreal this was. Castiel was having a deep conversation over coffee with his favorite living author. He wasn’t sure what led them here, but he was grateful for this moment.

“I’m rambling now,” Dean said. “Shit. What time is it? I don’t want to keep you.”

Castiel checked the time on his phone. “It’s five until 11.” He was about to say that he could stay for another hour, but when he looked around, he noticed the place was empty, and the employees were cleaning up. “Maybe we should go.”

When they got outside, they stood on the sidewalk, awkward for the first time. Castiel wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling that Dean was trying to get closer. And then he did, and they were standing so close Castiel could feel Dean’s breath on his cheek.

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, flicking his eyes to Castiel’s lips and back up to his eyes.

Castiel nodded, and then he took his chance, and kissed him. The kiss was soft and chaste, but it made Castiel shiver in plain summer. Dean put his hands on Castiel’s waist and pulled him closer. Castiel cupped Dean’s face. When they pulled away, Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek, which made Dean blush. It was adorable.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I should go. But, hey, I look forward to hearing from you.” He turned and started walking away.

“Hey,” Castiel called after him. “How will you ever hear from me? I don’t have your number.”

Dean looked over his shoulder. “Check your book.”

Castiel opened the book and found Dean’s signature beneath Castiel’s name, but there was a sticky note on top of it. The note read: _In the words of the great Carly Rae Jepsen, call me maybe?_ followed by a phone number. Castiel laughed.

Dean was Castiel’s favorite—living—author. But it looked like Castiel was Dean’s favorite reader. Or something like that.


End file.
